


I Could Hold You For A Million Years, To Make You Feel My Love

by baby-be-with-me-so-larryly (Things_he_cant)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, But not exactly, Established Relationship, Fluff, I'm really bloody sorry, M/M, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Things_he_cant/pseuds/baby-be-with-me-so-larryly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hold my hand to guide the way<br/>Hold my heart to keep it safe<br/>And I'll always remind you that I am yours alone<br/>Truly and forever until we're reborn<br/>Then I will find you once again<br/>To tell you I love you all over again</p><p>Or the one where Louis' whole world is smashed into tiny pieces, and Harry is his whole world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii! I've been meaning to write this for quite some time, but I didn't have the heart to.  
> Read on, my lovelies!
> 
> Tumblr: [baby-be-with-me-so-larryly](http://baby-be-with-me-so-larryly.tumblr.com)[](http://baby-be-with-me-so-larryly.tumblr.com)  
> Let's be best fwenssssssssssssssss <3

Louis' fucked up. He's such a bloody idiot,  _honestly._

Now that he's knocked some sense into that thick skull of his, he can see where Harry was coming from. He did it for  _Louis,_ it was  _always_ about Louis when it comes to Harry, and now he's fucked up, and on their  _anniversary._

Now he doesn't know if Harry will even show up for their dinner date.

Like I said, bloody idiot.

But he will, that's the thing. Harry  _will_ show up, because he's  _Harry,_ and it's  _Louis._ And for all the shit that they've been put through to get to where they are right now, Louis honestly doubts that Harry would miss a date of theirs on their anniversary just because of a stupid fight.

Louis will probably reach the restaurant (late, always late. But Harry will be early, always, always, early.) to the sight of his boy sitting on their usual table, green-eyed and gangly-limbed and curly-haired. He won't notice Louis' arrival at first, instead staring into space, or staring on the screen of his phone, with the corner of his lips curled up in the hint of a smile.

 

Louis allows himself to be transported back to 2010, at the X Factor house. They were so young and carefree and so bloody  _in love,_ God, not that they aren't now, but honestly, even Niall, Zayn and Liam couldn't  _stand_ to be within a 10 mile radius of the two of them then. Larry Stylinson, people'd said. It was the type of love that was so  _easy,_ it had come so  _naturally_ to Louis, that it used to scare him a little, they were so young, that's the thing, they were  _kids_ when they first met. It wasn't in-your-face, but they might as well had been screaming in peoples' faces. Look at us! We're in love!

Louis remembers the first time he'd caught Harry smiling into space, it was the day after their first proper kiss, where Harry had come stumbling into Louis' bed, green eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Louis," he remembers Harry whispering, and he'd looked so overwrought and skittish, like a scared little kitten, that Louis immediately wrapped him into an embrace and rubbed his hand on his back in little comforting circles.

"Lou," Louis remembers him whispering between dry sobs on his shoulder, "I think I'm in love with you."

That was when they'd shared their first kiss, the first of millions and millions of HarryandLouis kisses shared over the years. Louis thinks that it may have been the best one yet.

The first time Louis'd caught Harry smiling into space happened to be the first time that Harry wasn't  _already_ looking at Louis when Louis glanced over at him. Louis remembers slipping his hand into Harry's (because he _can_ do that now, and the thought made him a little giddy) and giving him a soft nudge, "What are you thinking 'bout, Haz?" _  
_

Louis remembers Harry blinking into space slowly, once, as he tightened his grip on Louis' hand and met his gaze, "You."

One little word, one little answer, but it somehow turned out to be the answer to  _everything._

Louis remembers slipping his hand out of Harry's to cup both of his hands on Harry's jaw, tentatively at first, thumb stroking over his cheek. It was the second HarryandLouis kiss, and it may or may not have been the first time they went pass second base.

But most importantly, it was the first time that the thought had hit Louis,  _I'm in love, I'm nineteen and I'm in love,_ and the thought made him want to climb up to the highest mountain and shout it out for the whole world to hear,  _I'm in love with this beautiful boy! And he loves me back! We're in love!_ Instead he'd tightened his grip on Harry and kissed him senseless. _  
_

It's been exactly 10 years, and he's never stopped wanting to kiss him senseless since.

Over the years, that little smile on Harry's lips as he stared into space has made countless, countless appearances. Always the same question, always, always the same answer. 16 and 19 are now 26 and 29, and they just might be the answer to every single one of the other's questions.

 

Louis imagines walking into the restaurant and catching his boy staring into space with that stupid smile on his stupid face, and he imagines walking up to him and asking, all nonchalantly, "Watcha thinking 'bout?", and he imagines the little smile on his boy's lips morphing into a full-blown  _Louis Smile,_ complete with signature dimples and signature love and fond and affection and  _soft_ and  _green_ and  _gold_ in his eyes as his gaze meets Louis'. And he'll whisper "You", just like the millions and millions of times before.

Louis is so ridiculously, stupidly,  _childishly_ in love with him, still.

The thought of his boy makes Louis smile as he fixes his tie in the mirror, and once satisfied that he officially looks hot enough to meet his favourite boy on the day of their anniversary, he grabs the bouquet of roses and walks out of their flat into his car, humming a little to himself, previous fight long forgotten.

 

Louis walks into the restaurant, bouquet of roses in hand, and he searches the restaurant for his boy. He searches, and searches, but there's no sign of green eyes and curly hair. 

Louis slumps onto his seat, a tiny bit deflated, but still excited nevertheless, because it's  _Harry,_ and it's been 10 years, but still, it's  _Harry._ Louis thinks that it might be a tad ridiculous that the thought of having a date with his boy would still give him butterflies in his tummy after 10 bloody years together, honestly. But it's  _Harry,_ and everything is ridiculous with Harry, really. 

Louis is just really glad that he's found someone who not only could give him stitches in his sides from laughing too hard, but could also make his heart beat erratically and tummy churn in the most pleasant way possible, every day of the past 10 years, and every day of the next 20, 40, 60 years they're undoubtedly gonna spend together, Louis is sure.

Louis glances at his watch, it's already 15 minutes past 7, and his heart lurches a bit. Harry is never late, has never been late for a date with Louis for the past 10 yea -  _fuck,_ _he's still mad at me,_ the unpleasant thought crosses his mind, and he presses the speed dial on his phone with a leaden thumb.

No one answers.

Fuck.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

 

They've obviously had a number of fights over the years, and countless of fights that were much worse than the one they'd had this afternoon, but never, Harry would  _never_ not pick up Louis' call on purpose, would  _never_ miss a date just to prove a point, he would  _never._ No matter how mad, and it's their  _anniversary,_ for fuck's sake.

Louis' heartbeat picks up unpleasantly, and he fidgets in his seat. What the actual fuck is going on?

He dials Harry's number again.

And again.

And again.

Still no answer.

 

Louis pockets his phone and picks up the bouquet of roses from the table as he stands up from his seat, and he sees a girl around his age, maybe a couple years younger, walking towards him with an apprehensive smile, teeth biting over her lower lip.

"Hi.....Louis," she says as she reaches Louis, "I used to be a huge, huge, _huge_ fan of yours. Still am, to be honest."

"Oh," Louis smiles warmly despite the ominous weight in his stomach, it's always nice to have former fans approaching him after all these years, "hi there, love!"

He opens up his arms in invitation, and the girl hugs him for a moment before suddenly squealing, "Oh, I'm so  _bloody_ excited for your reunion tour! My sister got us both tickets for one of the shows!"

Louis' smile gets even bigger as he says, "I'm so excited too! As are the boys!"

The girl grins at him before suddenly noticing the bouquet of roses, "Oh, are you waiting for Harry?", and her smile gets even wider as she squeezes her eyes shut for a second, like she can't really believe this was happening, before exclaiming dramatically, "you two are so bloody cute together! T'was so, so brave, what you two did back then. Am so bloody proud. Best day of my teenage life, it was."

Louis feels the blood flow in his veins quicken, he still gets a little giddy thinking about that day, to be honest. Best day of his life, it was, too.

"Thanks," he holds up his right hand in a fist, and the girl bumps their fists together, laughing, as he exclaims, "Larry for life!"

 "It was really, really nice meeting you, Louis, but I've got to go," she stretches out her hands for a quick hug, "Bye!"

Louis grins as she walks out the door with quick footsteps, but his grin immediately turns into a frown and his eyebrows scrunch up, there's the weird feeling in his stomach again.

Louis' just about to start walking towards the door, when his ringtone makes him jump a little.

 _Harry,_ he thinks, as he fumbles for a bit in his pocket before holding up the phone in front of him.

It's not Harry, it's a foreign number.

He holds the phone up to his ear nevertheless, his stomach drop, drop, dropping, it's now reaching his thighs.

"Hello?" he speaks into the phone tentatively, his stomach dropping a little bit more in the process, it's now at his knees.

"Mr Tomlinson?" a female voice comes from the other end, "You are listed as Mr Harry Styles' emergency contact -"

Louis feels his stomach drop to his feet.

No.

No.

_No._

He squeezes his eyes shut as the voice continues, the words washing over him, his brain not quite processing them.

Hospital. Car accident.

Harry.

Harry.

_Harry._

_His_ Harry.

"- could come over as soon as possible, -"

"Fuck," he manages to whisper, "I'm on my way."

Louis drops the bouquet of roses on the floor.

Everything is so silent that he almost hears the quiet  _thump_ as the flowers hit the floor, and a few delicate petals fall out from the flowers.

His head hurts.

And he runs, run, he's running. Everything seems like a blur. He's doing this on autopilot. His brain is a constant chant of HarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarry. He's a short distance away from his car, but it feels like miles away. He runs, he's running so hard he feels as if his lungs are going to burst.

Louis fumbles with the keys a bit before squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds. He has to focus. Focus. He has to get to Harry.  _Harry._

He opens his eyes before slamming down on the accelerator, he's biting his bottom lip so hard he can feel a faint metallic taste. It's drawing blood.

He drives, and he honks, and he drives, and he feels like screaming. He feels like screaming his fucking lungs out.

He's reaching, he can see the building, he's reaching. He's getting closer to Harry.

Everything is a blur, so he screams out the only thing in his brain as he reaches the counter.

"Harry!" Louis screams hysterically, a few people are glancing over, but he doesn't fucking care, "Harry!"

"Mr Tomlinson?" a nurse is approaching him, he recognises her voice as the one who was on the phone with him.

His vision is turning blurry.

"Yes," he manages to croak.

His head is killing him, it's pounding so hard. All the blood in his body is rushing to his brain.

The nurse is saying something, but his ears are buzzing, it's buzzing so, so loud.

Everything is a blur. He can't hear anything except for a deafening buzz in his ears, and his screaming thoughts of HarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarry.

It's almost in slow motion as he feels his knees buckle, and it's almost in slow motion as he feels the gush of wind.

He's a millisecond away from hitting the floor, he feels people crowding over him, the nurse is shouting.

 _Harry,_ he manages to think, before he feels a sharp thud behind his head, and his vision goes blank.

 

Louis opens his eyes, and it's so blinding, everything is so blinding.

"Harry!" Louis screams as the previous events rush into his brain, "Harry!"

And he's tripping down his bed, and he's running, he's running, a few nurses are approaching him, he doesn't fucking care.

"Mr Tomlinson!"

It's the nurse again, and Louis stops running. He doesn't know  _where_ he was running towards, to be honest. All he knows is  _Harry_ and  _Harry_ and  _Harry._

The nurse reaches over with a tentative hand to touch Louis' arm, "Follow me, Mr Tomlinson. Mr Styles is still in the operating room."

The nurse leads him down a million halls, and his head hurts. His ears hurt. His eyes hurt. Everything hurts.

His heart hurts.

They reach the front of a room, and the nurse touches his arm once again in a comforting gesture before walking away, and he's leaning on the wall, everything is spinning as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor.

He feels like the walls might be closing in on him.

Louis slows his ragged breathing as he buries his head on his lap, heartbeat a deafening  _thump thump thump._ Is this what it feels like to be Niall? With a million fans surrounding him as his claustrophobia attempts to drown him?

Except that Louis is not surrounded by a million adoring fans right now.

He's surrounded by his own demons.

Louis hears the door click open, and everything is moving in slow motion. The door is swinging open in slow motion. The doctors and nurses are walking in slow motion. Louis lifts his head in slow motion.

 _No,_ he mouths as he sees the look on their faces.  _No._

He's seen enough movies, he's watched enough shows to know what this is.

_No._

Everything is in slow motion. The doctor is shaking his head in slow motion.

"I'm sorry," the doctor says in slow motion.

They walk away in slow motion.

 

It takes a moment for Louis to realise that the inhuman, gut wrenching sound is produced by his own throat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiiii  
> Is anybody even reading this
> 
> Tumblr: [baby-be-with-me-so-larryly](http://baby-be-with-me-so-larryly.tumblr.com)[](http://baby-be-with-me-so-larryly.tumblr.com)  
> 

It's been half an hour since -

Louis can't even think of the word.

_No._

He can't associate the word  _dead_ with his boy. He was supposed to live forever.

They were supposed to be together forever. 

Louis feels the remnants of his heart thudding weakly in his chest, it surprises him that his heart is still beating. Maybe willingly giving his entire heart to his boy on a silver platter  _was_ in a metaphorical sense, after all.

He's sitting down on a chair now, he knows that he should  _do_ something. Call Anne, call his mother, call their -  _no._ He refuses to think.

He can't even bring himself to cry.

His body is shaking so, so violently. He thinks his breathing might have stopped 30 minutes ago.

"Mr Tomlinson?"

Louis lifts his head, and there's a nurse holding out a clear packet of - Louis recognises the things immediately. He can practically  _smell_ the lingering scent of his boy.

He holds out his hand in silent acceptance, and the nurse hands him the packet of belongings with a quiet "I'm sorry for your loss."

Louis nods in thanks, he can't bring himself to open his mouth, or he might not be able to stop himself from screaming, screaming until his throat and lungs  _shatters._

Not unlike how his entire world had shattered 30 minutes ago. _  
_

Louis takes a deep breath and dips his hand into the bag, and he fishes out Harry's watch. The sight of it is enough to make his heart stop and head pound.

He turns the watch over and over in his hand, and remembers the stars in Harry's eyes 6 years ago, when he'd given this exact watch to Harry for his 20th birthday.

 _6 years ago,_ it feels like it's been a lifetime. An unpleasant memory that should be tucked into the innermost part of his brain, never to be scrutinised upon ever again. And that was exactly what Louis did, 6 years ago. He'd packed the memories of the years of forced closeting into a wooden chest, locked it and shoved the chest into the back of his brain. He shouldn't be dwelling on those painful memories, the  _things_ that he'd been through with his boy.

Louis used to be certain that he would have endless years with his boy, endless chances and endless days to create endless wonderful memories.

Now that he knows for sure that he doesn't, he isn't granted the luxury of doing so, he's contemplating unlocking the chest of painful years, contemplating unlocking the chest of "I'm so tired of this, Lou"s, just to grant himself the luxury of listening to his favourite boy again, contemplating unlocking the "Shhh, I know, just a few more months, Haz"s, just to bring the feeling of shared kisses, kisses of promises and  _later_ and  _some day_ into his tummy again.

It's slipping, the chest had been slipping away for years now, snowed under by the countless, countless chests of beautiful memories he'd shared with his boy these past few years. Countless, countless memories of hand-holding in public. Countless, countless memories of little kisses they'd shared on stage, after they'd been allowed to do so, after they'd been allowed to not _hide_ anymore, to the cheers and applause from the thousands and thousands of fans who genuinely love them, genuinely love them for who they are, to the catcalls and fond smiles of his three other boys. Their joy of seeing HarryandLouis finally allowed to  _be,_ could have rivaled the joy of HarryandLouis themselves.

Louis contemplates unlocking the chest again, because he can't afford to lose  _anything_ now. Every single memory is precious, every single memory with his boy is a treat, even if those memories are memories of fights, memories of forced closeting, memories of having to  _pretend,_ to  _hide._

His heart gives a weary tug at the thought, even if Louis doesn't fully recall, his heart definitely does. The shadows of the  _pain_ he'd felt in his chest, every time he saw the enervated look in his boy's eyes, were forcefully branded upon his heart, and his heart is protesting weakly right now.

Beautiful eyes like those shouldn't be sad, Louis thinks.

Beautiful eyes like those shouldn't be lifeless.

6 years ago, in the midst of all the arguments with their puppeteers and arguments with each other, Louis'd pulled out the watch from his pocket on the eve of Harry's birthday, and the stars in Harry's eyes were  _blinding,_ so, so beautiful as he ran his thumb over the engraving on the inside of the watch.  _Won't stop till we surrender,_ it says.

"I love you," Louis remembers whispering the words like a promise, "I love you so fucking much, and I'd love you always, and we're in this together, alright? We're in this together, and we'd fight, we'd fight together and win those fights and we won't stop, we won't stop till we fucking surrender and we won't stop till we win this fucking war together, alright? I love you so, so much, and I'm giving you my time, I'm giving you every single second of the rest of my life."

Harry had worn the watch every single day since, even after they won the war.

He'd worn it like a promise.

Louis thumbs over the engraving and turns the watch over. The hands on the watch had stopped, probably damaged from the impact of the accident.

Promises. _Sometimes people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them_ , Louis recalls reading somewhere,  _but you keep the promise anyway, because that's what love is. Love is keeping the promise anyway._

It's a bad thing to break a promise, but it's worse to let a promise break you.

Louis breaks anyway.

 

Louis slips the watch onto his hand and dips his hand into the bag again, fishing out a couple of necklaces. Those stupid, stupid necklaces.

Stupid, everything is just so  _stupid._

 

Louis slips the necklaces on his neck, and dips his hand into the bag again. It's Harry's wallet, and Louis takes a sharp breath before opening it, fully aware of what he was going to face. On the left side of the wallet is a picture of the five of them, Louis, his boy, and his boys. They were on top of the world and on top of the charts then, and they were smiling not only because they were basically running the entire fucking  _world_ together, but because they were the five best, best, bestest friends in the world, and nothing beats running the world arm-in-arm with your four best, best, bestest friends in the world. 

Harry is Louis' best friend, first and foremost.

Louis doesn't glance at the photo on the right side of the wallet.

 

Louis can actually feel his heartbeat quicken now, thump thump thumping painfully in his chest, and it's a breath of fresh air from the weak thudding it'd been doing for the past hour or so. At least Louis knows that he's alive.

Louis is not sure if he wants to be alive.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Louis slips his hand into the bag for the last time, and his fingers search the bottom of the bag for a few seconds, before his forefinger feels something cool and metallic and  _familiar._

His heart is killing him now, it's banging violently on his chest, and Louis wonders why Harry hadn't just brought his heart along when he left. Louis' heart is his anyway.

Louis closes his fingers over the cool metallic band and brings it up to eye level.

It's stained with specks of blood.[  
](http://www.tumblr.com)

Harry's wedding ring is stained with specks of blood.

Louis feels his heart explode, and he's doing it again, the unearthly scream he'd done just now. It tears from his throat and goes on and on and on and on, until he's convulsing in his seat, his whole frame shaking violently with hysterical sobs. 

Louis' wedding ring suddenly seems to be suffocating him, gripping his soul like a vice and pulling him down, down, down, into an abyss. A dark, dark abyss where Harry is gone from Louis' life. Louis vaguely thinks that this can't be right, because Harry  _is_ his whole life. His life can't be gone from his life, because that doesn't make any sense at all. Nothing makes sense at all.

Louis realises that the abyss is real life.

Louis slips his wedding ring off his finger, and stares at the two rings in his hands. The one on the left is visibly smaller in diameter, and Louis suddenly feels that it's too shiny, too shiny and blinding compared to the ring in his right hand, which is scratched and stained with blood. _Harry's_ blood.

Louis feels his vision go blurry again, and his head suddenly feels too heavy for his neck. No, he can't collapse again, he can't afford to collapse. He has to stay strong, for Anne, for Gemma, for Niall, for Zayn, for Liam, for  _Harry._ Two more names flit across his mind, and he does everything he can to not tear his heart out from his chest.

Louis slips both of the rings onto his finger. They anchor him.

His phone is ringing shrilly, but his head is pounding. 

He picks it up anyway.

The caller ID says that it's Zayn, but Louis knows that it's definitely not Zayn. It's much, much worse.

Louis feels his heart shatter about a million times as he presses the phone to his ear, and it shatters a million times more times after.

"Hello?" Louis breathes into the phone, squeezing his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impending sideswipe of pain that is inevitable.

 

"Daddy?" The voice says, and Louis' entire world goes black.

 


End file.
